From My Zoetrope's Flickery Meadows Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Passions of school yard plays: Sharon,
You took creative writing on the very first day and leapt across
The classroom
When we were suppose to gather and queue: How I feared that you
Would leap across the classroom with your knee high socks
And black pony hair,
Like a waterfall that answers to no one: How perfect you stood and
Removed yourself from the desk,
Like a sexy paper airplane of fluted unrest and glided over to me,
And sat beside me and I am sure saw very little of what
You were hoping to find; but never mind:
That was over a lifetime ago, chicken wire on the patio,
Old-flames in the sky: Now everyone talks on cell-phones until the
Day they die:
And you are gone with the cars and the Indian givers: gone straight up
Stream and never even had to count the depths;
And yet I wonder if you weren’t the product of my insularly dreams:
Just the girl I was looking for combusted out of the shadows
And made to dance like a peony springing from my zoetrope’s
Flickery meadows.